


if i told you that i knew about the sun and the moon, i'd be untrue

by kusemono (Glitchgoat)



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hoshi Meguri (IDOLiSH7), Anal Sex, Consensual Infidelity, Double Penetration, Gangbang, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sloppy Seconds, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchgoat/pseuds/kusemono
Summary: Sardinia rests his elbow on the arm of the chair in which he’s seated, and his cheek upon his knuckles. “What are you waiting for?” he says, breaking—well, it’s not a silence, but it certainly gets the guards’ attention, and seems to shake them out of a stupor.





	if i told you that i knew about the sun and the moon, i'd be untrue

**Author's Note:**

> i ain't here to break ya, just see how far it will bend.
> 
> dedicated to, A, the coalition of horny freaks who kept encouraging me, and B, the condescending twits who whine whenever something that isn't pure soft unproblematic hand-holding gets posted, for --respectively -- keeping me motivated for the months this took, and for giving me the kick in the ass to finish and post it  
> read the tags before advancing, you fucking heathens, im _not_ accepting responsibility for this one if you don't

No kissing; no marks; Shinkai doesn’t get off until everyone else has had a turn in him; and, of course, Sardinia will skin his guards alive if they even think of laying a finger on Shinkai in _any_ other circumstances.

The guidelines that Sardinia has given his guards are simple, but that last part is probably to blame for some of the guards’ reticence; but it only takes a little bit of encouragement to get them to get over it.  
_Encouragement_ might mean either direct instructions from Sardinia, or it might be the sight of Shinkai slipping his eyes shut and letting the guard in his mouth (the first guard who had the courage to step forward) guide his head with a loose grip in his hair; but either way, it works.

The other guards (there are six in total, counting the one Shinkai is currently attending to) are split between staring and trying with mixed success to avert their eyes, as though they weren’t fully aware of what they’re here for. Sardinia supposes it’s probably difficult to ignore the little noises that Shinkai makes around the guard in his mouth, especially since they’re being such a quiet audience.

Not that Sardinia is complaining. He appreciates hearing every noise his bard chooses to share; but even so, the guards were asked here for a reason.

Sometimes he wants an audience, but not now.

Now, he wants to watch.

Sardinia rests his elbow on the arm of the chair in which he’s seated, and his cheek upon his knuckles. “What are you waiting for?” he says, breaking—well, it’s not a _silence_ , but it certainly gets the guards’ attention, and seems to shake them out of a stupor. “One of you. Fuck him,” he says, gesturing with one hand, tone as casual as it’d be if he were telling them to pick something off the floor.

For a moment, that glib instruction hangs in the air.

A guard finally takes the initiative, after what feels like an eternity. As the guard steps forward, Shinkai cracks an eye open and glances over at Sardinia—maybe. It’s hard to tell, and he gets distracted a moment later by the first guard rocking deeper into his mouth again, and the second guard tugging at his hips, relieving him of his leggings. By the time Sardinia gets a better look, Shinkai’s eyes have fluttered shut again.

Shinkai’s already prepared (did Sardinia spend a little too long making sure of that beforehand? Perhaps!), so once his leggings aren’t an issue, all it takes is a little repositioning. There’s still a bit of hesitance to the guard’s movements as he pulls Shinkai into place and nudges his legs apart— like if he moves Shinkai too roughly then he’ll be in trouble.

Perhaps, Sardinia supposes, they were waiting for his permission to act. As though he’s Shinkai’s keeper.

…

Well, regardless.

When Sardinia doesn’t stop him, the guard becomes more bold, and – more importantly -- stops taking so goddamn long.

That is to say that it’s really a shame that Shinkai’s mouth is full, because when the second guard pushes into him, grips at his hips and tugs him closer and _almost_ drags his mouth almost off of the first guard’s dick, the noise he makes would certainly have been lovely to behold. But it’s not to be. Sardinia will simply have to let his imagination do the work.

It only takes him a few moments to readjust, even if the guards have very different ideas about what Shinkai should be focusing on more. To his credit, Shinkai does a good job of splitting the difference. He takes it in stride-- he always does; lets himself be moved without being lifeless, even when all he can really be expected to do is accept what’s being given to him.

Sardinia thinks, with a throb of fondness and also something else entirely, that Shinkai’s so (obedient) cute.

Perhaps Sardinia means to say something along those lines, but instead, the next words out of his mouth:

“You. Come on his face.”

The guard in Shinkai’s mouth realizes he’s being addressed only a couple moment afters it happens, and he tears his eyes away from Shinkai to look over at Sardinia. The guard looks like he’s about to say something, but he falters when the king quirks an eyebrow expectantly.  
He pauses for only a moment more, then tightens his hand in Shinkai’s hair; Shinkai makes another sound whose muffling is a necessary evil, but is quite quiet when the guard pulls out of his mouth, left with only a thin trail of spit trailing down his chin and his tongue half-poking out.

Sardinia is momentarily grateful for the bit of distance between them, because without it he might want to wipe it away with his thumb-- for all the good it would do. Or put his fingers in Shinkai’s mouth, perhaps. Or any number of other things.  
(Instead, he just _immediately_ commits to memory the sight of Shinkai, still rocking against the guard still fucking him, looking vaguely puzzled at his mouth suddenly being empty.)

The guard seems to be of the same opinion, as when he takes himself in hand, it doesn’t take long for Sardinia to get what he asked for. With a bit of a shaky breath, he grips Shinkai’s hair a little harder and tugs his head back, so that Shinkai’s stormy eyes are turned upwards at the moment that the guard’s release hits his face.

He flinches, just a little bit. It’s a gesture that’s less _bothered_ and more _mildly surprised;_ but either way, the result is a streak of pearlescent cum across his cheek and on his glasses, a mildly dazed look on his face (as if he hadn’t heard Sardinia give the order—hm), and the culprit standing with softening dick in hand, his other hand still in Shinkai’s hair.

Shinkai _definitely_ glances over at Sardinia this time. Sardinia wonders if he’s imagining things or if Shinkai’s lips momentarily twitch into a dreamy little smile that doesn’t match the mood — but only for a moment. A third guard, emboldened by the precedent being already set, approaches and nudges his comrade out of the way. As the first guard releases Shinkai, the third takes his place with barely a missed beat, threading fingers through his messy hair and tugging back just-so. It’s probably unnecessary for him to tap his dick against Shinkai’s cheek, but Shinkai parts his lips distressingly easily regardless. It’s an invitation that this guard doesn’t hesitate to take.

Sardinia takes particular note of the gentle flush that fills Shinkai’s cheeks (among other things) as he gets pushed a bit further down than he might ordinarily go. (This guard is bigger.) He’s fine. It’s fine, more than fine— and Sardinia’s own hand drifts down between his own legs, because it will be a long time before they’re done, anyway.

Maybe some part of Sardinia feels a little bit guilty; some part of him usually does. Shinkai will go along with just about anything Sardinia asks of him (with some baffling and frustrating exceptions), and he can’t help but wonder if he’s pushing a bit too much.

But then Shinkai cracks his eyes open again and glances over, always looking to Sardinia as though he’s an anchor-point. More pertinently, his gaze flickers to Sardinia palming at himself.  
The way Shinkai’s erection hops to attention in record speed, the flush from his cheeks spreading further out, completely eradicates any scrap of guilt still lingering to Sardinia’s mind. Overriden. Overruled. (Perhaps Sardinia’s penchant for showing off is rubbing off on Shinkai. Maybe he shouldn’t feel proud of that, but since when has what he _should_ do mattered to him?)

Luckily, as the guards’ initial reluctance fades, Sardinia feels he can trust them to keep track of themselves so he can focus on more important matters.

_More important matters_ means _the sight of Shinkai getting fucked_ in this situation _._ (Actually, it does more often than not.)

Sardinia’s attention is wholly fixed on Shinkai, and it doesn’t take long before the meaningful differences between the guards slips away. It doesn’t matter which guard it is that’s coming on his face (and neck, down to his collarbone) and which just came in him, so as long as the former makes sure to take a turn at being the latter at some point—because after all, ‘in his mouth’ doesn’t count as having a turn in him by Sardinia’s standards, so why would coming _on_ him? (And besides that, maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world if some of them perhaps take an extra turn, if they’re feeling up to it. It wouldn’t be a mark against them in his books.)

It doesn’t matter which one it is that re-coordinates them so that Shinkai is on his back, or which one is helping prop him up so that another can keep fucking his mouth in this position. What’s _matters_ is the flush that fills Shinkai’s cheeks, and the way he bucks his shaking hips into the air in search of contact he’s not allowed to have, and the way he can’t quite focus his attention anywhere, but he keeps trying to look over to Sardinia like he’s a port in a storm.

(That as much as anything keeps sending throbs of warmth to Sardinia’s stomach and beyond, tied up in intricate knots of fondness and arousal and the desire to claim—)

It matters only a marginal bit more when one guard with Shinkai propped up in his lap is inside him, and the first guard to have taken action is lingering. He’s had the time to get hard again, but seems once again slow to take action.

Shinkai, if he has any input on this subject, is unable to provide it, because his mouth is occupied; but Sardinia is very helpful and forthcoming with suggestions.

“He can take you both.”

He says it casually, and the guard practically jumps, looking between Sardinia and Shinkai as though waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. When that doesn’t happen—well. Sardinia’s not sure why they all acted so shy, since they need so little convincing now. (Then again, looking at Shinkai, he doesn’t really blame them.)

The one in his mouth steps back, allows his comrade a bit more space to maneuver; Shinkai lifts his hand, as though by instinct, to help complete what was interrupted, but he gets sidetracked by—

“Ah—” Shinkai’s breath catches on a half-formed noise, his body tensing, his head falling back on the guard’s shoulder, his breath hastening. (Sardinia’s grip on himself gets a little more firm, in what is certainly simply coincidence.)  
It’s not too big. Sardinia knows it isn’t, quite definitively; but it’s still a lot, a different kind of lot from being passed around by six of Sardinia’s castle guards—

In too short a time, and yet not nearly fast enough, both guards are buried in him, and his chest rises and falls as he tries (and fails) to adjust. Sardinia’s not sure which is shaking more—Shinkai or the guards struggling to stay still. (Again, he doesn’t blame them. He respects the self-control it must take. He understands.)

Sardinia says nothing, gives no guidance, wants to see how it plays out—and it plays out quickly, as the urge to move—

(into what is assuredly an all-encompassing heat and too tight and also not tight enough because he’s been fucked, what, at least six times, probably more, and he’s an unholy mess)

— does seem to be a powerful one indeed.

But more powerful than that:

“Sardinia-sama,” falls a bit choked from Shinkai’s mouth, pulling Sardinia out of his thoughts, and he won’t (can’t) deny the rush of almost aching – and almost assuredly inappropriate – fondness.

Even now, it’s his name on Shinkai’s lips.

“Yes?” Sardinia says, tone sweet as honey, but Shinkai can’t quite seem to form the words he means to say, and so Sardinia prompts. “Do you want to stop?”

Instantly, Shinkai’s shaking his head _no_. “Just—slower,” he manages. “Hold on.” There are pinprick tears in his eyes, or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. The guards in him don’t dare move, waiting.

Sardinia hums quietly, considering.  
“Keep going,” he says after a moment, and the guards – after a moment of reluctant hesitation – take his word as law. (He didn’t actually say he wanted to stop, after all.)

Shinkai _whines_ – not loud, not obnoxious, but hitched and tense –  
Sardinia does not know what shame is, but even if he did, he’d feel none at all at how quickly that noise (that sight, that _concept_ ) makes him come, the rapid tightening and release of something white-hot and overwhelming in his stomach that comes and goes so fast it practically blindsides him.

(He’d resent it more if he didn’t know it was hardly the end.)

Everything after that is locked behind a faint haze, though he of course pays attention. He doesn’t dare do anything else; it’d be a great disservice, or even disrespectful, to Shinkai. Shinkai, upon whom he’d never wish a moment of pain or discomfort, and who does almost anything that Sardinia asks of him; Shinkai, getting fucked so hard by two guards at once that he can’t form words, with the faintest tracks of tears – not distressed, but overwhelmed, glancing over at Sardinia like he’s a stabilizing force.  
It can be both.

The only shame is that it doesn’t last longer than it does—that, and that the guard that was in his mouth before never resumes his place, instead giving one last parting shot across Shinkai’s face (that Shinkai himself hardly seems to register).

The guard who joined late pulls out first, and as he does, Shinkai shudders through his whole body, laying back on the guard who’s still inside him. It’s like he can’t stay upright anymore, and that feels like it’s the moment at which to call an end.

For a given value thereof, anyway.

Sardinia asks if anyone hasn’t had a turn yet; when nobody steps forward to volunteer as having been short-changed, and the guard who just pulled out retreats from the bed, that’s a good enough answer for Sardinia. He wasn’t keeping track as well as he should have, but the mess splattered across Shinkai’s face, chest, even his stomach, down the insides of his thighs, is testament enough.

Sardinia rises from his chair. The steps to his bed (which he has graciously allowed them to use!) are few, but he still carries himself with a degree of decorum and grace. As Sardinia takes a seat on the edge of the bed, Shinkai rises off of the guard, and again he shivers as he’s left empty. The guard, like his comrade before him, is quick to give them space.

Almost as though compelled by instinct, drawn like a magnet, Shinkai moves towards Sardinia, who holds his arms open like an invitation. Shinkai only makes it far enough to lay his head on Sardinia’s lap, and if Sardinia’s attention wasn’t already wholly, firmly, exclusively on him, it would be now.

“You can leave,” Sardinia says, not even looking up as he pets Shinkai’s hair away from his forehead, reveling in the way he leans into the touch. Sardinia gingerly pulls his glasses off (they’ll have to be cleaned) and sets them aside, then quickly returns his hand to Shinkai’s head to pet through his hair, unperturbed by the parts that have rapidly-drying cum in them.  
His hair’s so messy. Sardinia will have to wash it for him after, if Shinkai will let him. (Shinkai will assuredly let him.)

The guards are in no particular hurry to stick around; they make themselves as presentable as they can in short order, all the while desperately avoiding making eye contact with each other as the rush wears off. Sardinia might be amused if he had been paying attention to them, but he’s not.

Now, without a half-dozen men crowded around him, Sardinia can really appreciate their handiwork. The slowly-drying streaks of white across Shinkai’s chest and face almost entirely obscuring the much-swifter-drying tear tracks, the fevered rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply after not being able to— and, perhaps most importantly, the way his eyes are a little out of focus (though whether that’s due to exhaustion, the lack of his glasses, or both) as he nonetheless watches Sardinia intently.

Sardinia can’t help it. He nudges Shinkai off of his lap – which feels like a crime, yes, but a necessary one. Once Shinkai lies beside him instead of on his lap, Sardinia leans down, pushes Shinkai’s hair out of the way, and presses a kiss to his temple. He’s so warm. (He’s always warm, but even moreso now.)

And maybe since he’s here, he can’t help but press a couple more kisses in any clear spot he can find, and while Shinkai leans into every press of Sardinia’s lips, he leans just as readily into the hand that Sardinia trails down his side.  
There’s a lot of things he can’t quite say to Shinkai. To be honest, there always are, but they’d feel particularly misplaced now. Hopefully this will suffice in the meantime.

“Sardinia-sama,” Shinkai begins, his voice more than a little rough, but Sardinia shushes him; he doesn’t try to argue the point.

Sardinia smiles softly into Shinkai’s skin when he feels him shudder, torn between trying to close his legs and wanting to open them, when Sardinia’s hand strays down his hip, across his leg, and – indeed – into his inner thighs.

He’s so—

“Messy,” Sardinia says, barely aware that he’s speaking; the word just kind of slips out. His Shinkai _is_ messy, and used-up and fucked out, and he’s _his_ Shinkai, nobody else’s, even now ( _especially now_ ). That feeling swirls unexamined in Sardinia’s chest as he presses too-gentle kisses to Shinkai’s jawline and makes him shudder, as though every touch is electric. He barely trails his fingers along Shinkai’s (neglected! Hard and straining and so neglected) dick and he can’t hide the way he wants to arch into the touch, but he does an admirable job of restraining himself.

Sardinia doesn’t _have_ to press his fingers into Shinkai – he’s far from needing any more preparation, after all – but he certainly doesn’t see fit to stop himself. He’s not sure whether it’s the way Shinkai’s breath hitches pathetically or the feeling of his fingers sliding all-too-easy past the mess of oil and come left behind that makes him feel awfully lightheaded all of a sudden. Maybe both.

“Did you like it?” he asks in between soft presses of his lips to Shinkai’s jaw, asking as though he’d just presented Shinkai with some trinket of a gift. He’s hardly worried about the answer, but he still waits with bated breath for Shinkai’s nod, which he gets a moment later. Sardinia practically purrs; Shinkai shifts slightly to accommodate Sardinia’s fingers as he adds a still-wholly-unnecessary third. He’s not particularly talkative, so Sardinia continues.  
“Did you keep track of how many times they had you, Shinkai?” he asks innocently, sweetly, as he twists his fingers, draws another hitched breath out of Shinkai in lieu of an answer. He could listen to that sound forever. (He’d like to.)

But eventually, Shinkai shakes his head once and speaks. “No.”

“No?” Sardinia repeats, a gentle tease that he can’t help but make. So be it that Sardinia didn’t keep track either. That’s quite beside the point.

(He wants to say so much; he wants to gently tease Shinkai for not keeping track, if he’s really that much of a— well. He wouldn’t say it. He has no intention of ever saying an unkind word to Shinkai, and even if he did, Sardinia knows that the answer to that question would always be the same. _If that’s what Sardinia wants._ He’s not altogether sure he could bear to hear that now, so he doesn’t press it.)

So instead, he takes a different tack.

“If you lost track,” he muses, petting Shinkai’s hip with his free hand, “then I should wonder if you still want me on top of all of that.”

Shinkai responds with a nearly frantic immediacy. “Yes,” he says, breathless, clearly troubled by the idea of Sardinia not taking his turn. “Sardinia-sama, please—”

(As though Sardinia could ever actually walk away so easily. He often _likes_ to take the first turn, but he _insists_ on being last.)

“Alright,” Sardinia says, then lifts his head and presses a kiss to Shinkai’s lips before he can waste his breath any more on telling him something that they both know. Shinkai doesn’t quite relax – it may not be possible for him to – but the possibility of Sardinia not taking his turn seems to immediately become distant.

(Sardinia perhaps shouldn’t feel good about how even now, after all that, especially now, Shinkai still needs him or it’s not enough, but here we are.)

It only takes a moment to rearrange, to push Shinkai’s legs up and situate himself between them. It takes less than that to push into him, with almost no resistance, too easy by far. Shinkai shudders, letting his arms fall above his head, his hands twisting for purchase in the sheets. It’s different when it’s just him. Shinkai is always Shinkai, but he’s less reserved now than he was only a handful of minutes ago, and that makes something warm – almost uncomfortably so – settle in Sardinia’s stomach.

Sardinia feels kind of bad for leaving Shinkai empty for those precious few minutes. Poor thing. He idly trails his fingers down Shinkai’s side as he begins to rock into him, playing over his ribs and abs like the keys of an instrument. He shudders, and Sardinia – overcome with affection – drops that hand to Shinkai’s erection. He’s not prepared for the reaction that gets him.

“Stop,” Shinkai says, his voice shaking. “Sardinia-sama, stop—”

Shinkai lifts his hands to reach down to stop Sardinia, but it’s unnecessary. The very moment the first sound comes out of Shinkai’s mouth, Sardinia’s already drawn his hand back like he’s pulling away from a flame. Stop is different than _wait_. Stop is different from _slow down._ (He can’t ignore _stop_.)

Before Sardinia has the time to run through any worst-case scenarios, Shinkai is catching his breath and continuing. “Don’t. You haven’t—” he hesitates, his face flushed for a combination of any number of reasons. “You haven’t finished yet, Sardinia-sama.”

Sardinia hasn’t come in him yet. That means not everyone has. Which means he doesn’t get to. (And if Sardinia touches him, then he _might_. He doesn’t think he can control himself that much. He’s so goddamn _obedient,_ cute, doesn’t want to disobey even the pettiest of Sardinia’s rules, it makes that warm _something_ in Sardinia’s chest—among other things – throb.)

“Oh, Shinkai,” Sardinia murmurs, practically coos, and his hand instead finds its way to Shinkai’s abdomen, tracing along his navel. His stomach twitches, and Sardinia smiles softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you come early.”

Shinkai can’t seem to decide whether or not he should relax or not, but he doesn’t need to make those kinds of decisions.

Sardinia adjusts, then; he gets his hands settled on Shinkai’s hips, and pulls him up just a little bit to adjust the angle, and then – and only then, after they’ve both had to wait so long (so be it that _Sardinia_ was able to get off earlier—), Sardinia truly takes his turn with his bard.

He arches over Shinkai, listens to the way he just barely whines (never loud, never dramatic, just hitched little noises every time Sardinia draws out, resenting the absence, and forced out of him again when he pushes back in). It’d be harder to go slow; between the mess that’s already there, having to wait, the fact that Shinkai still asked for this after everything—well.

Sardinia may feel bad in secret about a great many things, but right now, fucking Shinkai into the mattress – as Shinkai’s arms loop around his shoulders, blunt nails scratching faint red lines there that Sardinia sees fit to replicate along Shinkai’s hips, as Shinkai’s legs hitch up and he bites out _Sardinia-sama_ – is the last thing that’s going to weigh on his conscience.  
Shinkai is his, after all. Only his. Only ever his.

He wants to tell Shinkai as much, but he resists the urge. The way he only reacts this way for _him_ is a good enough testament to that, anyway.

He tries his best to hold out (to put just a few spare minutes longer until the moment that Shinkai can get off, because he’s so fucking _cute_ ), but it’s not to be. Though by any reasonable metric it shouldn’t materially matter (what’s a little more mess, after all?), there are no reasonable metrics being used right now. Shinkai does his best to tense up as he feels Sardinia throb inside him, and Sardinia hisses through his teeth.

He’s breathing heavier than he thought he was, and as he stops moving, the relative silence is almost deafening—or perhaps that’s just the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Shinkai’s chest rises and falls with heavy breath; he shudders on the exhale, sounding _almost_ as though he might sob. It’s a sound that aches Sardinia to his very core, and – even though he’s loathe to do so – he pulls out of Shinkai in short order.

Shinkai’s arms are still around his shoulders and he doesn’t seem excited to let go, so he has to move gingerly. Sardinia’s own legs shake a little more than he perhaps expected them to as he moves backwards, keeping his head bowed down, presses kisses down Shinkai’s stomach as he goes.

Sardinia glances up to Shinkai, catches one last glance at his face – flushed red, teary-eyed, having the damndest time focusing. He begins to say Sardinia’s name, but he’s cut off when Sardinia takes him into his mouth.

Shinkai’s hands are still settled on Sardinia’s shoulders, but he doesn’t dare try to push or pull him, simply allows him to go at his own pace; Sardinia relaxes his throat and breathes through his nose, takes Shinkai in as far as he can into his mouth. (He really wishes that Shinkai would thread his fingers through his hair, but that can be for another time.)

If Shinkai was afraid that being touched simply by Sardinia’s hand would do him in, he didn’t have a goddamn chance of holding out now, but what can Sardinia say? He wants to spoil him. (He’s been so good.)

He comes in no time at all, with a sound like one of those sobs that had been trying to come out finally forces its way into the air.

And Sardinia is so very, very, very fond.

**Author's Note:**

> me: sometimes i think about sardinia and shinkai holding hands and i start to cry
> 
> also me: writes this
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> if you think for two seconds that there is NOT a similar, tho distinct, incident where instead of sardinia's castle guards the other participants are the rest of the hoshimegu cast, you're wrong. that totally happens. sardinia and shinkai are both very horny. maybe i'll write that one too. maybe it won't take me six months
> 
> on twitter [@glitchgoats](https://twitter.com/glitchgoats)


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